


The Changing of the Leaves

by purple_bookcover



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Magic School, Magic University - Freeform, Nonbinary Akaashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:35:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28054011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purple_bookcover/pseuds/purple_bookcover
Summary: Kuroo comes from an old magical family. He breezes through magic school and magic university. It's all pretty dull, until the university changes its policies and allows "scrubs" to enroll, magically-affiliated students who discovered their powers later in life. That's when he meets him - Kozume Kenma, the scrub he simply can't ignore.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 8
Kudos: 59
Collections: Kuroken Christmas Exchange 2020, read haikyuu fics





	The Changing of the Leaves

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the Kuroken holiday exchange. Rated T for language.

Floating candles really lost their charm after a year of batting the damn things away. Kuroo swatted one aside before it could drip wax on his lunch. 

“Could they just buy normal candles?” he grumbled.

“Ah, but then how could they impress the newbies?” Akaashi said, their smile wry. 

Kuroo rolled his eyes. “What newbies? Everyone at this damn university went to the same high schools and lived in the same stupid magic-affiliated neighborhoods. Hell, I knew half the professors here when I was kid.” 

Akaashi just shrugged and went back to their lunch. Kuroo tried to do the same, he really did, but speaking his frustrations out loud only made them worse. The magic community was small, ridiculously small. His ex was at the next table over and their ex was at the next next table over. His potions professor had been his babysitter when she was a teenager and not an employee of the one and only (and therefore prestigious) magical university in the country. 

Prestigious. Kuroo struggled not to scoff. It was only prestigious because it had no competition. Sure, there were international schools, but they were all doing their own things with their own communities, which were just as small and confining as the one here. 

It was suffocating. Absolutely suffocating and stifling and the worst part was--

“Who’s that?” 

Kuroo blinked, almost not believing his eyes. Someone was entering the cafeteria, a tray in his hands. He was small and slight, with black hair bleached blonde at the tips and held back in a bun. His sweater was about three sizes too large, the sleeves pooling down around his wrists. 

And most importantly of all, Kuroo had never seen him before. Not once in his life. Not at his magical middle school, not at his magical high school and certainly not at his magical university. 

The stranger wandered to an empty table and sat down, alone, hunching over his food.

Akaashi turned to follow Kuroo’s gaze. “Who’s what?” 

“Him. The guy sitting alone over there. Never seen him before. He’s cute.”

Akaashi rolled their eyes. “He’s a scrub.”

“What?”

“A scrub. You know, thought he was normal most of his life and bam, now he’s trying to figure out this whole magic thing. Frankly, it’s terrifying. Imagine letting complete newbies into a school like this. It’s a matter of time before they set something on fire.”

“Hey,” Kuroo said, “you don’t know that.”

“I do,” Akaashi said. “Because they’re scrubs. And that’s what scrubs do. But I understand that you have absolutely no standards whatsoever, so fine, go chat him up. I don’t care what you do.” 

Kuroo nearly did, just out of pure spite. What did Akaashi know? They were from one of the most prestigious magical families around, the kind of family people mentioned with so much reverence they may as well bow. Kuroo’s own family was unremarkable. Good enough. Not the magical elite, but not scrubs either. Still, it meant Kuroo had used magic before he even walked. 

The scrub at the table across the cafeteria clearly had not. 

He was batting at a floating candle, even as he looked around the room, eyes wide. The dishes that refilled themselves, the brooms that swept up crumbs all on their own, the bats perched in the rafters – the newbie struggled to take them all in. 

He scowled when Kuroo sat across from him. 

“Hey,” Kuroo said. 

“What do you want?”

Not the greeting Kuroo was expecting, not at all. The guy across from him frowned, somehow managing to look both exhausted and furious by Kuroo’s mere presence. 

“I just wanted to say hi,” Kuroo said. “First day, right? I’m Kuroo.”

“Great.”

“And … you are?” 

His lips twisted, somehow frowning more, before he reluctantly offered: “Kenma.” 

“Nice to meet you, Kenma.”

“Sure.” 

“Do you, uh, want a tour of the place or anything? Has anyone shown you around yet?” This Kenma was even cuter up close than he looked from across the room. Bright eyes swept shrewdly through the cafeteria. Little tufts of hair slipped free of his bun to brush against his cheeks. His fingers were long and furtive, but Kuroo got the impression they were also remarkably clever. 

“Do you think I’m stupid?” Kenma said.

“Excuse me?” 

“I’m not a moron,” Kenma said. “I get it. I’m - what are you all calling it? - a ‘scrub,’ right? So what’s your plan? Swagger over here, offer me a tour and then leave me stuck on the roof or something?” 

“What? No, I just--”

“Save it.” 

Kenma lurched to his feet, leaving a half-eaten plate of food behind as he stormed out of the cafeteria. Kuroo’s mouth still hung slack when he looked back at Akaashi, who just smirked and shrugged.

#

“And this year, for the first time in Nekoma University history, we have loosened our admissions guidelines to allow a more broad range of magically-inclined students to study here.” 

The voice boomed through the auditorium. The principal held a wand against her throat, allowing her voice to carry through the whole room. More than a couple snickers of “scrubs” hissed beneath the speech.

“This is a chance to bring even more talent into the magical community,” the principal went on. “For decades, the ranks of the magically adept have declined due to prejudice, due to misunderstanding, due to elitism. What we are doing here is not bold or revolutionary – it is overdue. It is past time we opened our doors to the broader community.” 

Kuroo tuned her out. It wasn’t that he disagreed – quite the opposite. It was just that it didn’t really matter. Everyone in the room had already formed their opinion on the issue. The ones who were sneering and whispering weren’t going to be swayed by the principal’s pretty words. 

Kuroo glanced around the assembly, doing what he could with glares alone. It quieted a couple people down, but just as many stared right back at him, unabashed. 

Then he came across Kenma.

It had been days since their “introduction” in the cafeteria and Kenma hadn’t spoken a word to Kuroo – or damn near anyone else. They even had a couple classes together, a fact that filled Kuroo with both interest and dread. Yet Kenma seemed content to spend the semester sulking silently. 

Seriously, what was with this guy? Kuroo was trying to help him. It wasn’t like scrubs had all that much support right now. For all the principal’s talk of “welcoming,” the overwhelming majority of students here, and magical families generally, were not pleased by this change in Nekoma University’s policies. 

Kuroo was just trying to do the right thing or, at the very least, not be a stuck up prick like the rest of the magical community. 

“Together, we will banish the stigma that has plagued our community for far too long.” 

The principal finished with a flourish and the students clapped politely, many encouraged to do so by their professors elbowing them. 

Kenma just rolled his eyes. It was stupid how cute a gesture it was when he did it. Never in his life had Kuroo thought of eye rolling as adorable, but then again, never in his life had he seen Kenma doing the eye rolling. 

The gesture must have caused Kenma to look to the side. He caught Kuroo watching and froze, face going from exasperated to suspicious in a blink.

Kuroo smiled. God, even his suspicion was nice to look at. 

Kenma’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t turn away.

Kuroo took his chance, shrugging and nodding toward the podium where the principal had stood. 

The faintest of smiles pulled at one side of Kenma’s mouth. At least, that’s what Kuroo hoped he saw. It was gone all too soon, lost as the students assembled started to move and Kenma disappeared into the crowd.

#

Kuroo lounged in the grass, hands behind his head, leaves crackling beneath him as he shifted to cross one knee over the other. A flaming canopy spread overhead, blotting out the clear sky, brittle with cold as fall eased toward winter. 

The campus was beautiful this time of year, picturesque, but Kuroo gazed dully at the tapestry of brilliant foliage woven over him. 

“Are you listening?” Akaashi said. 

“Hm?” Kuroo said.

Akaashi tsked. “You really can’t stop thinking about that one scrub, huh?”

“You don’t know that’s what I was thinking about.”

“Don’t I?” 

Kuroo twisted his lips into a frown. “Fine. So what? A guy can dream.”

Akaashi sighed somewhere off to his side. “You’re talented, you know that? You could actually be studying and improving if you weren’t fixated on a random scrub who can barely levitate.”

“What good is talent without romance?”

Akaashi snorted. “You’re really something. Do you want to finish this homework or what?”

Kuroo rolled over with a sigh, pushing up to sitting in the grass. Akaashi had various items set out between them – a pen, an inkwell, a piece of parchment held down with stones. Flowing script curled down the page, neat and elegant, even if it was just the words “Kuroo, you are an idiot” over and over. 

Kuroo concentrated, reaching for the magical power he’d felt lurking within him all his life. Scooping it up was as easy as breathing. The pen rose, dipping into the inkwell. Then it levitated over the parchment to write:

_Fuck off, Akaashi._

Akaashi huffed. Kuroo let the pen drop, splattering ink on the parchment. Then he jumped to his feet, leaving before Akaashi could start scolding him. Maybe he’d go back to their dorm room. He probably had some time before Akaashi returned as well. He could go for a snack though, if the cafeteria was open. 

He’d just turned his feet in that direction when he froze in place. Kenma was walking toward him, books clutched against his chest, an oversized jacket swallowing him as it shielded him from the chill. 

Kuroo recovered, plastering on a grin as he hurried to fall into step beside Kenma. 

“Hey.”

Kenma startled as he blinked up at Kuroo. “What?”

“That’s not very nice.”

“Neither is you ambushing me on my way to class.”

“What class?” Kuroo said. He tried to lean over to peek at Kenma’s textbooks but they were pressed too tightly against him. 

“What does it matter to you?” Kenma said.

“Just being friendly.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t ask you for friendliness. You’re bothering me.” 

Kuroo relented, stuffing his hands in his pockets and giving Kenma a little breath of space. He didn’t speak again, but kept walking beside him, the leaves dropping around them as they paced over the paving stones winding between the red brick buildings of the university. It was so damn quaint, like a painting or something, yet Kenma seemed completely unaffected by it. This should have been romantic, damn it, but Kuroo couldn’t seem to get any reaction but annoyance.

“Say something,” Kenma muttered.

“Huh? I thought you wanted me to stop bothering you,” Kuroo said.

“It’s weird when you’re this quiet.” Kenma spoke downward at his books more than at Kuroo.

“OK, fine,” Kuroo said. “What’s your favorite class so far? We have a couple together.”

“The theory one.”

Kuroo blinked. “Really? Theory? Wow, everyone hates theory.”

Kenma shrugged. “I like figuring out how things work, taking them apart, I guess.”

“Hm. Never heard it described that way, but I get it. We’ve all been stuck in those kinds of classes since we were little kids so they’re pretty boring at this point.”

“Yeah, well, it’s all new to me.” There was an edge to that. Kenma was pulling away again. 

Kuroo scrambled. “Sorry, yeah, I know. It wasn’t a criticism. Just noticing. In some ways, it’s really refreshing to have new folks here.”

Kenma shot him a look.

“I’m serious,” Kuroo said. “We’ve all been doing this a certain way for a long time. I didn’t realize how stuck I was in old habits until I met you. A-and the others. Of course.” 

“Right.” Kenma studied the ground as he walked. 

“Look,” Kuroo said, “I know not everyone around here is cool about it, but they’re stuffy idiots. Anyone with sense knows this is the right move and one that will benefit the whole community. More trained magic users is always better than less.”

Kenma muttered something.

“Huh?”

“I said that you have no idea what you’re talking about.” When Kenma looked over at Kuroo, his eyes were bright, brighter than Kuroo had ever seen them. It stopped Kuroo in his tracks.

They paused outside a red brick building. Kenma finally looked up at Kuroo, bored, but perhaps not actually mad.

“You have no idea what it’s like to discover halfway through your life that the things you can do aren’t normal,” Kenma said. “That you’ve never been normal. And, worse, that there are people who could have _helped_ you this whole damn time and they didn’t! And for what? Old pride or some shit? Do you know how many ‘scrubs’ die from some sort of accident simply because no one ever taught them what to do with this shit?”

Kenma paused, cheeks rosy. His breath huffed out of his nose. His gaze locked on Kuroo, bright as the sun beating directly into Kuroo’s eyes.

Kuroo had to swallow before responding with a quiet, “No, I don’t.”

“A lot,” Kenma said. “Too many.” 

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo said. “I really am.”

“We don’t need your pity.”

“I’m not pitying you,” Kuroo said. “I’m sorry because we fucked up and because it didn’t have to be this way and because we’re still not doing a good job of fixing it.”

Kenma narrowed his eyes at Kuroo. 

“Is that why you came here?” Kuroo said. “To learn to control it? Because you can do so much more than that, you can be so much more. You’re strong. It’s obvious. Once you get the hang of this, you’ll do way more than just control it.”

“No,” Kenma said. “I came here because...” His eyes flickered from side to side. “I came here out of spite, to prove to people like you that I can do this.”

“I already believe in you.” 

Kenma’s mouth twitched. Perhaps it was anger. Perhaps it was some wry, bitter laugh. Kuroo wasn’t sure and in a mere moment it passed and Kenma was back to smooth impassivity. 

“This is where my class is,” Kenma said. 

“Right, well,” Kuroo said. Could he suggest they’d run into each other again or would that just push Kenma away? Could he ask about studying together, huddled close together in the library, pouring over a book with their elbows touching? Could he say that the cafeteria made the best hot chocolate this time of year and they should try it and he knew the right time of day to get it fresh? 

Kenma cleared his throat. Kuroo jerked.

“Oh, uh...”

“Maybe,” Kenma said, voice hushed, “maybe I’ll run into you again.”

Heat washed into Kuroo’s face despite the coolness of the day. “Maybe,” he said.

Kenma met his eyes for a moment, just a fleeting glance, but Kuroo knew he was lost. The heat built, glowing in his cheek. He couldn’t stuff it down, couldn’t pretend – so he didn’t try. He smiled. 

“I’d like that,” Kuroo said.

This time Kenma was the one with redness rising in his cheeks. He turned sharply away, toward the doors of the building. “Well, fine. See you, then.” 

Kenma rushed into the building, doors swinging shut behind him.

“Yeah,” Kuroo said, “see you.”

#

Kuroo twirled his finger lazily, drawing a small circle in the air. The feather lifted off his desk, floating up to eye level, holding steady when Kuroo crooked his finger. 

It was a simple enough trick, one his professors liked to reinforce every semester. Levitation was a staple of magical practice and the foundation of so many other elements of magic that it got drilled in from kindergarten.

Well, if you went to a magical kindergarten at least.

Kuroo glanced across the room to see Kenma glaring at his feather, lips twisted into a frown. He drew a large circle with his finger in a slashing, jerky motion that revealed his irritation. Meanwhile, most of the rest of the class had their feathers already floating calmly before them. It was only Kenma left. The scrub. The only person in the room who didn’t have two decades of magical training to fall back on. 

Kuroo wasn’t the only one watching.

More and more eyes turned to Kenma as he struggled to raise the feather off his desk. At first, Kuroo hoped he might simply not notice. Then Kenma lifted his head, meeting the stares of his classmates.

More than one student openly snickered. 

“Settle down,” the professor said. “Let’s focus more on this skill, alright? It’s important we work on this, as it is the baseline of so much else we’re planning to do this semester.”

A student raised his hand.

“Yes?”

“Can we move on?” the student said. “It seems like most of us have got it down. We shouldn’t have to slow down the entire class because of one person.” 

Whispers rippled through the room. Kenma’s face flushed red. 

The professor made some placating remark about perfecting form or some such, but Kuroo feared it was already too late. This wasn’t the first time Kenma had been called out in class because of his status; if Kuroo didn’t do something it wouldn’t be the last, either. 

He acted quickly, on instinct. Kuroo drew more power from within himself, way more than he needed for a damn feather, and pushed it across the room. He knew it was big and obvious, knew he’d probably be caught, but he wasn’t thinking about long-term consequences just then. He was focused entirely on somehow salvaging the disaster unfolding before him.

Several rows ahead of him, the student still arguing with the professor about moving on yelped. His feather spiraled out of control, striking the ceiling like a dart. 

Gasps of surprise turned into laughter. The student stopped arguing, gaping at his feather.

“As I said,” the professor chimed in, “it is worthwhile to ensure we all control this skill before we consider moving on.” 

Kuroo smiled to himself, enjoying his moment of victory. He’d diverted everyone’s attention, at least for now. Even in this small second of triumph, a trickle of dread seeped in. There was no way this would last. Everyone else in this school had an insurmountable advantage over Kenma and the other scrub students. Kuroo had headed off disaster today, but there would be other classes, other skills Kenma hadn’t grown up perfecting, other techniques he simply did not know. 

Why did the school set things up like this? They could have at least helped Kenma and the others catch up before throwing them into classes like this. Kuroo feared they just wanted to promote an image of acceptance without actually _being_ accepting, doing the extra work it would take to make students like Kenma genuinely welcome in the community. 

Kuroo searched for Kenma, afraid of what he might find, afraid of the hurt he’d encounter, the hurt he hadn’t been able to prevent.

He found Kenma rising from his seat, grabbing his bag hastily as he darted for the door. 

Kuroo and the professor called out for Kenma at the same instant, but it was too late, Kenma was already fleeing the classroom, door slamming behind him.

Kuroo didn’t hesitate. He was on his feet instantly, leaving everything but his jacket behind as he chased Kenma out of the classroom. Perhaps the gasps he heard were real; perhaps they were only his own astonishment at his actions echoing in his head. 

It made no difference. They wouldn’t stop him. Kuroo strode from the classroom with a purpose, bursting in to the hall beyond and searching for Kenma.

Kuroo just barely caught sight of him disappearing around a corner.

He ran, no longer caring how it looked. Every second since Kenma had joined the school had been more infuriating than the last. No matter how Kuroo tried, he couldn’t get close to Kenma, but he also couldn’t blame Kenma for that. The school was pitted against him, terrible at every turn. Why shouldn’t he see Kuroo as just another cruel element of this cruel place? 

When he rounded the corner, a cold draft slapped him in the face. He pounded after Kenma, who’d apparently escaped outside. Was he going to leave the university entirely? Kuroo’s chest ached at the mere thought, unwilling to accept the idea that he could wake up tomorrow and Kenma could be gone.

He sighed when he emerged from the building to find Kenma standing on the paving stones just beyond the building. His back was to Kuroo, shoulders drawn up and hunched, looking small in a long coat to protect against the chill.

Kuroo slowed, pacing forward. Red and gold leaves stripped from skeletal trees littered the paved path they stood on. The leaves still clinging to branches flared gold and crimson, like drops of watery sunlight caught among the tangle of limbs. The green of the grass separating the school buildings served as a bright contrast.

It would have been beautiful if the people inhabiting this place weren’t so consistently ugly. 

Kuroo approached Kenma slowly, scuffing his feet a little so Kenma wouldn’t be surprised. He came up beside Kenma, glancing aside to find him eerily calm. Kuroo had expected tears or anger or something, but Kenma’s face was a terrifying blank. 

“Hey,” Kuroo said.

“I hate it here,” Kenma said. His voice was so soft Kuroo nearly lost it on the chilly wind. 

“Yeah, I know,” Kuroo said. 

They stood in silence, the leaves falling around them, dripping splashes of brilliant color onto the drab paving stones. There was something warm about the scent the foliage released as it died, like the heat stored up during summer was seeping out into the air.

“I know what you did,” Kenma said. “The thing with the feather. I’m not stupid. I know it was you.”

Kuroo shoved his hands his pockets, suddenly awkward. “Oh.”

“I don’t need your charity, you know,” Kenma said.

“I know. That’s not why I did it.”

“Yeah, then why?”

Kuroo shrugged. “Cuz those guys are assholes.”

Kenma snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I picked up on that.”

The silence fell again, like a tide washing in and making them slow and heavy and sluggish. Kuroo moved a leaf around with the toe of his shoe. 

“I’m leaving,” Kenma said.

The words struck Kuroo right in the chest.

“What? Why?” 

Kenma glanced over at him. “Come on. Seriously?”

Kuroo swallowed. “Seriously.”

“I don’t belong here,” Kenma said. He looked back out at the stately old buildings of the university. “I never did.”

“That’s not true,” Kuroo said. “Things are changing. Those guys are jerks but everyone here isn’t like that. They’ll come around, I promise. Don’t let them drive you off.”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because this is a good university. I’m lazy as hell and I still learned so much here. You could be really great.”

Kenma glared right into Kuroo’s eyes. “That’s not why.”

Kuroo blinked, cold washing through him. “What?”

“That’s not why you’re saying all this to me.” Kenma narrowed his eyes. “Is it?”

Kuroo hesitated, the words caught in his throat. Kenma’s eyes were so sharp and piercing from this close. Strands of hair slipped free of his bun and drifted into his face, softening it despite his stubborn glare. 

Kuroo had known from the second he’d seen him that he wanted to get closer to Kenma. He didn’t even quite know why. Because he was different. Because he didn’t buy anyone’s shit. Because he saw things in a way no one else around here saw them. Because he looked so beautiful with all the burning fall foliage quietly dying around him. 

“No,” Kuroo said. “That’s not why I said it.”

Kenma’s lips ticked up at the corners, so quick Kuroo nearly missed it. Then he reached for Kuroo’s coat and pulled him down to his mouth, kissing him right there in the heart of Nekoma University. It was like all the bright, brilliant colors of fall washed into Kuroo all at once. His whole world became lighter and warmer as Kenma’s soft mouth pressed against his. 

Kuroo reached for him, finding his shoulders and pulling him closer. He breathed in and his lungs filled with a mild scent that he instantly knew as Kenma – only Kenma. He wanted to hold him close like that forever, to taste and smell and feel every inch of him, memorize it and map it onto his lips, but eventually he eased away.

Kuroo left his hands on Kenma’s shoulders and Kenma kept his hands gripping the front of Kuroo’s coat. They stood so close their toes nearly touched. Kuroo couldn’t resist leaning forward, pressing his forehead against Kenma’s to breathe him in just a little longer. 

“Don’t go yet,” Kuroo said. 

“Why?” Kenma said. 

“For me.” 

Kenma laughed, but it was a genuine laugh, one of actual amusement. “Selfish, aren’t we?”

“Yes,” Kuroo said, not bothering to deny it, not even pretending he wanted to be anywhere but right here like this. 

Kenma just tilted up to kiss him again, briefer this time, but no less sweet for that. 

“So, you’ll stay?” Kuroo said. 

Kenma sighed. “Fine.”

Kuroo couldn’t resist wrapping Kenma in his arms and squeezing him against his chest. 

“For now,” Kenma protested even as Kuroo went on hugging him. “But I swear--”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Kuroo said. He finally released Kenma, offering just a hand instead. “It won’t be perfect, but you aren’t alone, alright?” 

Kenma rolled his eyes, but Kuroo could see the way a smile tried to curl his mouth. “Whatever.” 

Still, he took Kuroo’s hand, allowing Kuroo to lead him away from the astonished eyes watching from the windows all around them. Let them watch. Let them glare. Let them ogle. 

Kuroo flipped them off with his free hand. Kenma laughed beside him. Kuroo kicked up the foliage around them, creating a snowfall flurry of red and gold. And while all those narrowed eyes watched, he walked away, hand-in-hand with the most incredible student this damn place would ever know.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/purplebookcover) (18+ please).
> 
> I respond to every comment. Thank you, friends!


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